And Don't Ever Forget It
by ElizaKat001
Summary: Rachel is devastated over her breakup with Finn, and finds 2 unlikely saviors-the girl she thought she hated, and the boy who's always loved her. Features Faberry friendship/Quick friendship/eventual Puckleberry. T for language
1. Rachel

_Quinn Fabray must be an angel. _That's the only thought running through my mind as I watch her out of the corner of my eye, drumming lightly on the steering wheel and murmuring the words to the Maroon 5 song on the radio. She really is beautiful; she always has been. It's always given me that much more reason to hate her. That much blithe perfection on the outside paired with such a poisonous interior must be some sort of cruel joke from the heavens, right? At least that's what I convinced myself. That someone could look so irritatingly like a catalogue model while spouting hateful comments and laughter was a deep injustice, and I resented it.

Today, though, her loveliness does not make me want to rip out all her hair, but instead seems to shed a glowing light on everything it touches. I can smile again, I can sing without bursting into tears, and outstanding ideas for regionals are pouring back into my brain as if someone flipped a switch. Today, I don't feel like crawling into my bed and staying there for weeks, and it's all thanks to Quinn. Hmm. What a bizarre day it's been.

It began this morning in the girls' bathroom. I wandered in there for no particular reason, excect that I had nowhere else to go. I had gotten to school early out of habit, and was even halfway to Finn's locker before I remembered, and felt a wave of pain so intense it was almost nauseating. They say you can feel your heart breaking, and now I know that's true. For the first time, it hit me straight in the gut-he was gone. _Gone._ And I had nowhere to turn, no girlfriends to come stroke my hair and tell me what a jerk he was. I had nothing. And so I turned on my heel and walked straight into the first place where I could not see him. I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt a hand on my shoulder-Quinn's hand-and looked up to see my tear-stained cheeks in the mirror.

"Are you okay?" she asked me, and try as I might, I could not detect a single trace of contempt or sarcasm in her voice. Her eyes looked genuinely concerned, and it confused me.

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you." It was not an accusation, I marveled, but an invitation to break down, and I could not help myself. Before I knew it, my gentle stream of tears had turned to full-on sobs. She didn't say anything for a few moments-just stood there silently and watched me gasp and wail, never taking her hand off of my shoulder. It was not until I had pulled myself together and was hopelessly dabbing water on my puffy eyes that she spoke again.

"You need to get out of here," she told me, her voice calm. "You're a mess. You can't do school like this. Come on." I could only gape at her as she started towards the door.

"You-you mean skip school? With you?" I asked, and immediately regretted how childish it sounded. Of course, Quinn must cut class all the time. It would not be a big deal to her. But honestly, the idea had never even occurred to me, and it seemed awfully rebellious.

She smirked, but not unkindly. "Would you rather stay?" I would have rather been anywhere else, and she knew it. I shook my head. "That's kind of what I thought. Now wash your face and let's go. We'll do something fun and be back in time for glee rehearsal." She pushed the bathroom door open, and although I was still completely bewildered by this turn of events, I followed her into the parking lot without looking back.

That's how I ended up here, in the passenger seat of Quinn Fabray's Lexus, with a Frappuccino in my newly manicured hands, and a massive shopping bag at my feet. And she was right-it _had _been fun. After a brief period of awkwardness, I miraculously found myself giggling along with her as she told me stories about Sam and his raging horomones. She shrieked girlishly when I admitted my brief crush on Mr. Schuester last year, and she shoved me into fitting room after fitting room with heaping armfuls of clothes. Though I still am not sure about some of my new outfits, I cannot deny the surge of giddiness I felt when Quinn pounded on the dressing room door and commanded that I come out and show her. And when she examined my reflection in the full-length mirror and declared it "perfect," I truly thought the simple kindness might do me in, and I would collapse into a sobbing heap yet again. _This is what it must be like to have friends._

We're almost back at McKinely now, and the knots in my stomach are tightening up again. What if he doesn't talk to me? Or worse, what if he does? What if he sits next to Santana? Now that is something I surely could not handle. Quinn glances at me and turns down the radio. "Just ignore him. Don't even look at him. Pretend he doesn't exist," she instructs, correctly interpreting my silence.

"Quinn, as co-captains of the club, Finn and I need to have a certain level of comeraderie, and I feel that this split should be as amicable-"

"Yeah, fine. Eventually you'll need to get along. But not today. You're not ready for that. You can sit with me and Sam."

I know she's right, so I don't bother arguing. But I need to ask her the question that's been begging to come out all day. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

She doesn't answer right away, and I am suddenly terrified that I asked the wrong thing; that she'll tell me to forget it and pretend it never happened. But she doesn't.

"You were nice to me once when I really needed it and didn't deserve it," she says matter-of-factly, turning off her ignition. "And I feel bad about you and Finn. But mostly," she glances away slightly. "Mostly because I keep thinking 'what if it was Beth?' I know it's crazy, but-she's my daughter, you know? Someday she'll be a teenager and get her heart broken, and I want someone to be there for her when it happens. I can't stand the thought of her being lonely."

I am stunned. This is the first time that I've heard Quinn directly mention her baby, and the loving tone she uses when she says Beth's name is remarkable. This cannot be the same girl who referred to me only as "man-hands" and laughed viciously every time I got a slushie to the face. She has grown up so much. But I cannot say all that, not yet, so I only say "thank you," and hope she knows how much I mean it.

She nods. "No problem." And together, we begin the walk toward the choir room and the boy I love.


	2. Puck

I've never been much for crying chicks. People think it's because I can't deal with emotions, but that's bullshit. Hell, I'm in glee club, aren't I? That shit's full of emotion. The reason I hate it when chicks cry is because I usually took some part in causing it, and guilt makes me feel like a pussy.

So basically, I'm bracing myself for the worst, because if this certain girl comes in looking even a little bit sad, I'm a goner. But the second she walks into the room, I can't believe I ever thought she'd cry. She's staring straight ahead with the same fierce determination she always has, like she's daring the world to fuck with her, and it almost makes me crack a tiny smile. Almost. Every time I see Rachel Berry, I'm amazed by how much dignity she carries on those tiny shoulders of hers. I have guns like the Incredible Hulk, and I don't walk around with half the _chutzpah_ she does.

Anyway, she's not crying, and now I'm thinking that maybe if I shift a little in my chair, I can telepathically will her to sit in the empty seat next to mine. Now that Rachel and Finn are no longer Rachelandfinn, she's gonna need a new choir room turf, right? She's walking this way, she looks unbelievably hot in that flouncy little skirt. _Please, please, please sit in this chair right here, Berry, please. _But she doesn't, because something really weird happens. Quinn walks up behind her and whispers something in her ear, and instead of bitch slapping her and starting an epic girl-on-girl throwdown (which I definitely wouldn't have minded), Rachel _laughs. _She actually _giggles,_ and it's the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. And the crazy doesn't stop there. Quinn grabs Rachels wrist and leads her over to the two empty chairs near Evans, and they sit next to each other like it's the most normal thing in the world. And they're smiling. And they haven't killed each other.

_What the fuck?_

I take my phone out of my pocket and, as stealthily as only the Puckster can, shoot Quinn a text. Just a question mark. She'll know what I mean. Not five seconds later, my phone buzzes. "**New message from**: Q. **Message**: Talk later." Um, okay, whatever the fuck that means.

I adore Quinn, and she knows it. Granted, we give each other a lot of shit, but that's only because after everything we've been through, we're sort of past the point of politeness. She can be a little bitcherina when she wants to be. But when it comes down to it, nobody else in the world understands my feelings for Beth quite like Quinn does. I don't usually do the "friends" thing, but I guess that's what she is. She's stuck around even though she knows every gnarly thing about me.

Well. Almost. She doesn't know _the _thing. The thing that's had me lying awake every night, staring at my ceiling. God, I'm such a fucking puss.

See, here's the thing. Truth is, I didn't get off that bed for Finn. I mean, he's my bud and he's a good guy, but it wasn't for him. I did it for her. It was her eyes that did me in. All that hurt and anger pent up inside of them, and I knew it wasn't me she was thinking of, and I knew how much she would regret it. Finn doesn't deserve a Boyfriend of the Year award in my humble opinion, but she loves him to fucking pieces, and I wasn't about to destroy that. I never thought she would go and _tell _him, although I probably should have guessed. This is Rachel Berry we're talking about, queen of honesty, even when it makes people hate your existence.

I believe that Finn likes Rachel. I even believe that he thinks he loves her. But there was always something off. Too much of him zoning out as she rambled, too much of the "I love you, but...(you're annoying, you're selfish, fill in the blank)." If she was mine, there would be no doubt in her mind that everything about her is perfection. Not that it matters, because she's not mine, and never will be.

"So! Who wants to pick their partner first? Rachel?" Mr. Schue's voice snaps me out of my little emo fest. I have no idea what the fuck he just said, or what we're picking partners for, but he's bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet, looking like an overgrown cartoon character, and he's reaching this hat out to Rachel, and she's reaching a perfect hand in, and pulling out a slip of paper.

"Noah," she says, and I go a little bit weak.

"Alright! Puck and Rachel! You guys better start practicing right away, because I'm expecting a killer performance from the two of you."

I can't help it. I smile, and somehow she's smiling back, and spewing out song ideas, and asking if I want to practice tomorrow after school "if you're not too busy with football. Although, Noah, this is rather important. This duet is going to set the stage for the rest of the semester, and we're going to have to spend a lot of time rehearsing if we're going to be, as Mr. Schuester said, 'killer.' I'm counting on you to be fully committed."

_Well, shit. Maybe karma's not such a bitch after all. _


	3. Quinn

There are tons of perks to being a Cheerio, but I think the best part is that I never have to pick out something to wear. Wearing our uniforms every day might be super cheesy and lame (and downright stupid when it's cold outside), but I absolutely love it. I love being able to come to school looking like this cool, composed girl who has her life together, with no extra effort on my part. Even now, as I walk down the hallway, people are looking up from their conversations and sneaking glances over locker doors. I always act like I don't notice, but I do. I need it. I live for it.

I feel my phone buzz in my purse, and pull it out.** New message from**: Sam. **Message**: Overslept. Running late. See you at lunch beautiful :DDDD.

I smile down at my phone like a loser. I can't help it; he's a cutie. Millions of boys have told me they loved me, but I think Sam's the first one to _show _it with more than words. I've never had a guy listen so intently to every single word I say. Besides, he's an amazing kisser. _Amazing. _I told that to Rachel yesterday in a weird moment of weakness, and she giggled like a 4-year-old. It was cute though, I guess. In a Rachel kind of way. And honestly, even though I essentially kidnapped her more out of guilt than anything, I ended up having a pretty good time with the little midget. It was one of the few times hanging out with a girl where I didn't feel like I was walking on a tightrope, constantly trying to look cool and sure of myself, knowing that if I took one wrong step, I would fall. It was...relaxing.

That was my first time skipping school in a long time. I used to do it sometimes when I was pregnant and everything seemed to be too much for me to handle. I never did anything bad; just wandered around the mall, sat in coffee shops, ran pointless errands. I never told _anyone _this, but I would sometimes take one of my rings and put it on my wedding ring finger, and for an afternoon, I could just be a normal young mother instead of a high school tramp. Instead of the disgusted looks, I would get smiles from strangers and old ladies fawning over me. Kind of like my life before.

"Quinn! Hey! Quinn!" I look up and see Rachel practically sprinting toward me. She's weaving through people and dodging swinging backpacks like her ass is on fire. And what's more, she's wearing knee-high socks _covered in ladybugs. _Good Lord. Several bitchy (hilarious) comments float straight to my brain, but instead I bite my tongue and smile, as she screeches to a halt in front of me.

"Hey Rach. How are you?" She beams, obviously thrilled that I called her a nickname that's not RuPaul or man-hands. _Crap, I hope she doesn't think we're friends now. _Although, okay, I'm glad she seems alright and isn't sobbing in front of a bathroom mirror.

"I'm great, actually! I feel so much better. Finn doesn't know what he gave up! Right?" She looks at me expectantly like I'm supposed to confirm this, so I smile again and nod. "Anyway, I got you something. To say thanks again for yesterday." _What?_ I stare at her as she rummages through her backpack and pulls out a gigantic box of Skittles, complete with a Rachel Berry-style gift bow. "Here!" She thrusts the box at me. "I know it's not much, but I remember you saying how much you loved them."

Oh my God. I think I mentioned my love for Skittles once at a glee rehearsal months ago. Did she seriously remember all that time? And then actually went to the store and bought them and wrapped them in ribbon? Just to thank me. God. Santana may be fun to hang with, but I can't imagine her ever doing something so...thoughtful.

"Wow. Thank you. You really didn't have to do that."

"Oh, don't mention it. It's the least I could do. Okay, I have to go to class now, see ya!" Does she ever breathe when she talks? Before I can even say bye, she's barrelling back down the hallway. A few pairs of curious eyes follow her, but one lingers a liiiittle longer than the rest. And not out of curiosity either. Ha. Puck is not the most subtle of men.

"Hey Puckerman!" I call, and he waves and starts making his way over.

"Hey Q. What up with the Skittles?"

"Oh...they're from Rachel." His eyes light up a cartoon when I say her name, and I have to resist the urge to roll mine. Honestly, I may be a Cheerio, but I'm not a moron, and Puck's been mooning over her for ages. At least now I sort of have an idea why.

"What's going on with you two anyway?"

"I told you already. She was sad, I wanted to help. Is it that hard to believe I would do something nice for someone else? God. Hey, I keep forgetting-will you be around tonight? I never picked up that last box of my junk from your house."

"Oh..." he runs his fingers through that nasty mohawk. "I might not be, but you can get it from my mom or Sarah. I think Berry wants to practice our duet thing." The way he says her name is the same way he says Beth's, but he clearly thinks he still looks like a badass. He's such a little puppy dog for her. This is just too good.

"Really? That's what _she_ wants?" I grin up at him, and he scowls.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, Fabray?"

"Oh, nothing. Just that you don't seem to be objecting too much. Welll, see you later Puckster. Tell Rach I said hey." I wink at him cheerily and turn to walk away, and when I turn back to look a minute later, he's still glaring at my back.

Hehe. Today's going to be a good day.


	4. Rachel 2

**A/N: First of all, thank you for the reviews! This is my first fanfic, so it's good to know it's being read :). I've always been convinced that Puck is completely in love with Rachel, and completely aware of his feelings, and it's really fun to write! Also, if you haven't figured it out yet, the POV alternates between Rachel, Puck, and Quinn every chapter...so instead of actual chapter titles, I'll have the name of whatever character is narrating so it's super easy to follow. I have the next couple of chapters outlined. Now I just have to put them into actual words. I'll update as fast as I can, and stuff's about to start going down, so I hope you keep reading and leaving reviews! I do appreciate constructive criticism too :). The song is "Heaven" by Bryan Adams. **

Noah Puckerman's bedroom is strangely normal. Granted, there is a large and extraordinarily unhygienic pile of clothes in the corner, but there's also a normal closet, a smell television set, a...bed (_I wonder how many girls have been in that bed? Gross, never mind.)_ I don't know what I was expecting-bars on the window, maybe, or pornographic posters plastering the walls-but it certainly wasn't this.

I actually am quite surprised he agreed to have me over to practice. He seemed a bit hesitant-he's still not entirely comfortable with his "gleek" status-but he did say yes, and it's a good thing too, because I simply could not have him in my house again knowing what happened there last time. Besides which, I will positively _die_ if we don't win this competition. If anything will prove to my fellow glee-clubbers that I am just as strong-willed without having Finn on my arm, this is it.

"So this is where the magic happens." Noah is leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, something Finn told me he does to make his arms look bigger. "You want something to drink, Berry?" He smirks. "A brewsky?" I only narrow my eyes at him, because honestly? If offering me alcoholic beverages is supposed to be some kind of joke, it's not funny in the slightest. I haven't forgotten what happened to Quinn last time she accepted booze from him. Besides, who does he think he is with that smirk thing he does? He clearly fancies himself quite a sex god, and it's utterly ridiculous. Well. Not that I would know. A moment of silence passes, and he rolls his eyes. "Relax, I was kidding. So do you care to explain why we're doing a duet together? I zoned out a little during Schue's speech. More interesting things on my mind." This final comment is, of course, accompanied by another smirk.

He is _beyond _infuriating.

"Well, Noah. As you are now aware, I selected your name out of a hat to be my partner for the duet competition, of which the winning pair-chosen by the panel of Mr. Schuester, Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell, and Coach Beiste-writes the set list for Regionals. And as you are also aware, I am rather opinionated when it comes to song selection, and this opportunity is one that I refuse to-"

"Yeah, that about does it." He cuts me off with a lazy wave of his hand. "I'm sure you have this all planned out, so let's hear it. I'd kind of like to get this show on the road so I can get it the hell over with." He crosses his arms again, and it's true, his muscles bulge out significantly. I make a mental note to tell Finn, before I remember that we aren't exactly speaking. When I glance up, Noah is looking me straight in the face, and for some bizarre reason, I find myself slightly tongue-tied, which is odd, because it's a pretty rare occurrence for me to find myself rendered speechless. Particularly when he didn't even _do _anything.

"Yes-um-yes. I thought we could do a selection from the smash-hit Broadway show RENT. I think "I'll Cover You" would showcase both of our unique voices quite nicely. I have it here on my iPod if you'd like to hear it."

"I know the song, Berry," he says, and I'm pretty sure my mouths falls open in shock. "But this is a partner project in case you forgot, and what _I _think is that we need a song that will be a crowd-pleaser. Something everybody knows." Since when does he have an opinion on anything involving glee club?

"Oh...well, okay. Did you have something specific in mind?" I ask him, somewhat dreading his answer. He doesn't answer, just grins (why does he keep _doing _that?) and picks up the guitar that's propped up in the corner.

"_Ooh, thinking about our younger years...it was only you and me...we were young and wild and free..."_

No. No, no, no. Not this song, please, any other song. Noah's looking right at me as he sings, and God, I'd forgotten how beautiful his voice is, but this had got to be some sort of cruel joke. He's smiling. He has to know. He has to know that singing this song would hurt me straight through to my core. For the second time in two days, my eyes are brimming over with tears, and that's the last thing I want him to see, so I try nonchalantly wiping my eyes with my sleeve, but it's too late. He's already stopped playing and is staring at me with a look of utter bewilderment.

"Ah, fuck," he mutters, and I can't even bother to be offended by his crude language. "Rachel, I'm-I'm sorry. What's wrong?" He actually looks worried, and I realize how stupid it was for me to think he did it on purpose. How in the world could he have known this was the worst possible song for him to choose? I actually think about lying, because the truth is a bit pitiful actually, but nothing convincing comes to mind.

"It's...it's just the song...I sang it for Finn once. A while ago..." My voice trails off, and my vision goes blurry as the tears start to spill over, and I turn to leave before I can humiliate myself even further, but before I can get more than a step towards the door, I find myself enveloped in a pair of strong, bronzed, masculine arms. Noah's arms. I find myself immediately confronted with a flashback of those same arms around my waist, on my bed, and pull away slightly, but he only pulls me in tighter, nestling my head into his chest. "It's okay," he murmurs into my hair, and that _voice..._it almost sounds as though...like he-but that's ridiculous, obviously.

His hand is making circles on my back, and in my moment of weakness, I let myself melt into him, breathing in the scent of this boy who isn't Finn. It's a little unfamiliar-a strange blend of cologne and cigarette smoke and Chinese food-but for right now, it's exactly what I need.


	5. Puck 2

I can't believe I fucking made her _cry. _Good work, Puckerman. You're a regular fucking Romeo. I thought she would dig the song. I mean, she practically threw herself at me after Sweet Caroline. How the hell was I supposed to know she belted it out for Frankenteen? And anyway, when was the last time _he _sang _her _a song? Oh yeah, try never. Just another reason he doesn't deserve her fine Jewish ass.

If I'm being honest, seeing her cry was worse than being jumped by every one of those hard-asses in juvie, and I sort of want to kill Hudson for it, because what the _fuck_ was he thinking dumping her like that? I always knew he wasn't Einstein, but could he seriously not see that he had this goddess right in front of his face?

_"It's cool, I was gonna break up with you anyway."_

Remembering that makes me want to puke. Biggest lie I've ever told right there, and I've told some whoppers. I want to know what the hell I was thinking when I spat that out. I walked around for five days feeling like the luckiest guy in the whole goddamn world, and then she tore me to shreds, and I thought that if I pretended my heart wasn't breaking, maybe I wouldn't feel it anymore either. I could have fought back. Should have fought back. But no, I was so hell-bent on keeping my fucking _reputation._ I'm so retarded.

_"No, you weren't." _She knew. She knew and still didn't want me.

I roll over onto my side and glance at the clock. 2:00am. It's been seven hours since she bolted out of my room with barely a "see you later," and I can still practically feel her cheek pressed up against my chest. Fuck. This is ridiculous. I swing my legs over the side of my bed, and stagger over to the desk, turning on my laptop. I need something to get my mind off this. Normally some free internet porn and a round of solo sex would do the job just fine, but that would only make me feel even more fucked up right now. Wait a second-what the fuck is Quinn doing on chat?

**Puckster3000:** i hope u realize its 2 in the goddamn morning

**CheerioChick: **sam just left...shhhhh

Ha. Maybe Evans has more game than I give him credit for.

**Puckster3000: **so were u 2 gettin it on or wut?

**CheerioChick: **mind your own business. what are you doing awake?

**Puckster3000: **eh just couldnt sleep. thinkin about shit

**CheerioChick:** shit like rachel? ;)

What the fuck is up with these women knowing everything? I don't even know what to say to that. If I could tell anyone, it would be Quinn, but there's no way in hell I'm getting that involved, especially seeing as they're bffs or whatever all of a sudden.

**CheerioChick: **lol. it's pretty obvious. no worries, i didn't say anything to her.

...okay, fine. Shit.

**Puckster3000: **wut do i do? shes still all doe eyed over finn

**CheerioChick: **well yeah, mr. sensitive. they broke up like 4 days ago. she seems like she's getting better though. i don't think it'll last long.

**Puckster3000: **and again i ask...wut do i do?

**CheerioChick: **well...remember in the adoption counselor's office when she had us write letters to beth to express our feelings?

Of course I fucking remember. It's the only time anyone but my mom has ever seen me cry, and I sobbed like a baby. "Shelby will give these letters to Beth whenever she sees fit," the counselor had said. "So that she will always know how much her birth parents loved her." But she specifically told us not to sign them. She said since we live so close together, it might make it harder on her, and if she wants to know who we are, she can take the first step herself.

**Puckster3000: **yah...y?

**CheerioChick: **well maybe you could do something like that. but for rachel.

_Of course. It's fucking brilliant. _And just like that, I know exactly how to get out of this hellhole my brain's in. I can tell Rachel how I feel. But if she doesn't know it's me, she can't turn me down.

**Puckster3000: **thanks q. now fucking go to sleep so u dont look like shit tomorrow.

Practically leaping out of my chair, I snatch my backpack and rip a piece of paper out of one of my blank notebooks (what? Taking notes is for pussies). Disgusing my handwriting because, okay, I'm a little paranoid, I write out the words that I've been dying to tell her.

"Rachel Berry, you are the most beautiful and amazing girl in the world, and don't ever forget it."

And then I stick it in an envelope and address it and run it out to the mailbox before I change my mind.

Thank God that's over with. Now I can quit being such a goddamn pussy and get some sleep.


	6. Quinn 2

**A/N: Again, thank you all for your lovely reviews! I appreciate them so much :DD. My personal life is getting a little crazy in the next couple weeks, but I promise I'll still update as often as I can. This is kind of a "transition" chapter, I guess. It's pretty short, and not much exciting happens, but it's necessary to move us forward in the story. I hope you enjoy it anyway! :)**

I have Rachel Berry's number programmed in my phone. It's been in there for months, ever since Mr. Schue insisted that we add everyone in glee to our contacts, but I never thought in a million years that Rachel would have any reason to call me. I wouldn't believe it if it wasn't for my phone vibrating on my dresser, and her name on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, um-hi. Quinn? It's Rachel. Berry. From Glee." I laugh, just a little bit. Okay, so maybe her awkwardness is just the tiniest bit endearing.

"I know who you are, Rachel. What's up?"

"Well. Something extremely bizarre happened to me today, and I just-I wanted to tell somebody about it. And under normal circumstances I would call Finn, but seeing as we're no longer an item, I thought maybe I could..." Does she _ever_ stop talking? I'm half tempted to put the phone down and go make myself some dinner or something. It's not like she would ever notice. But I'm feeling kind of affectionate towards her after the Skittles thing, so I lay back and get comfortable, because God knows this could take a while.

"What happened?" I ask her, and I swear I can hear her inhale on the other end.

"There was a letter in my mailbox when I got home from school. An anonymous letter. A...love note of sorts, I suppose." Okay, so now I'm a little bit intrigued. I totally expected this "bizarre" event to be, like, a crack in her high C, or whatever it is she spends her whole life obsessing about. But an anonoymous love note? That's actually pretty cool in a daytime soap kind of way. Although...

"I hate to burst your bubble Rach, but it was probably that nasty Jewfro kid."

"That's what I thought too, at first. But it's really not his style. He would sign it, for one thing. He's never seemed the least bit shy about his...interest in me. Besides, it's a bit too sweet to have been the work of Jacob Ben-Israel. Here, I'll read it to you." And she does. And then it hits me.

_No. Way. _I literally have to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Puck. How idiotic can a person be? This is Rachel Berry we're talking about, did he honestly think for one second that she would keep this to herself? And that I'm so stupid that I wouldn't know right away that it was him, after our conversation last night? The truth is, I really think Puckerman would be good for Rachel, and not just because they're both Jewish or whatever. I know he seems like a Lima Loser on the outside, but he gets pretty intense about the things he cares about, just like she does. And since he already knows he's the king of all badasses, he wouldn't hesitate to kick the shit out of anyone who gave Rachel a hard time, unlike Finn, who was always more concerned with staying on top. Plus he's pretty handsome, even if the thought of kissing him makes me puke in my mouth.

"Quinn? Are you still there? Do you think it was Finn?" And the poor girl sounds so hopeful that I almost want to give her a hug or something. I should so just tell her that it was Puck and get it over with, but he's my friend, and he would rip me to pieces if he knew I blew his cover. The boy may be head over heels, but he's also the proudest, most stubborn person I know. Yet another thing they have in common. Honestly, it's a miracle he even listened to my letter-writing idea. If he wins her over, he's going to want to know that he did it all himself.

Or...he'll _think _he did it all himself. Oh my God. I'm a genius.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, I'm here," I tell her, feeling my smile spread across my face, because this is just too hilarious. "And I have an idea." I slide off my bed and grab a pen off my desk. Suddenly I'm not nearly as tired as I was ten minutes ago. "What's your address?" I ask her. "I'm coming over."

I hop in my car with a completely new sense of goodwill, or something like that. Between my little shopping excursion with Rachel, and this new matchmaking feat, I am well on my way to becoming a new and improved Quinn. I'm going to get these two together if it _kills _me. Because even though Puck's kind of an insensitive prick sometimes, he's still my friend. And even though Rachel sometimes makes me want to rip out every hair on my head one by one...well...I guess she's kind of my friend too.

Huh. I wonder when that happened.


	7. Rachel 3

**A/N: Whooo! I'm having way too much fun with this story. Quinn has some schemes up her sleeve, and things are just getting rolling. Heads up, this is kind of where the different POV thing comes into play. Things won't completely make sense until you get all three perspectives, so if it's confusing, don't get frustrated! More soon! :))**

Listening to Quinn's advice is probably the smartest thing I've ever done. I admit, given our somewhat hostile relationship in the past, I was the tiniest bit concerned that she might have an ulterior motive. It is a bit strange-to be mocking my (admittedly large) nose one week, and the next, rummaging through my closet as though we're the best of friends. But now, seeing the looks of awe and admiration I'm receiving as I walk down the hall, I'm confident she had my best interests at heart.

She came over yesterday after our phone conversation armed with a bag full of clothing and three Cosmo magazines. I had never read Cosmo before yesterday, but I found it rather enlightening. "Rach," she told me, as she pulled various items out of her bag and held them up to me. "I really don't know who that note was from, but what I think is that we should keep it between us and not spread it around. I mean, if whoever it was thinks his efforts went unnoticed, he'll probably strike again, right?" This made a reasonable amount of sense to me, so I nodded. "But in the meantime," she continued. "It probably wouldn't hurt to doll yourself up a little. Whoever this guy is is obviously watching you. Might as well give him something to look at. Maybe it'll even make him reveal himself sooner. You know..." she paused for a moment and grinned at me. "I saw that Ryan kid from our chemistry class looking at you the other day. I bet it was him." I don't know which was more shocking: the fact that Quinn thought a guy was watching me, or the fact that she knew we were in the same chemistry class.

And so here I am at school, all, as Quinn put it, "dolled up." And I can't lie, I like the way I look. I'm wearing a pair of Quinn's own low-rise skinny jeans, an off-the-shoulder black top, and a pair of knee-high boots that I bought for a performance and never wore again. She even showed me how to put mouse in my hair so it looks kind of mussed-up and wild, and how to put on eyeliner. I glance at my reflection as I pass a window, and I am slightly impressed by what I see.

I remember what Quinn said about pretending to text (according to Cosmo, you should always look busy), so I pull out my phone, only to see that I already have a text.

**New Message from: **Fabray, Quinn**. Message: **girl you look smokin. this is DEF gonna work.

I glance up to see her huddled in a group of Cheerios on the other side of the hallway. She offers me a wink and a small wave, which I return happily. I'll find time to thank her later. First things first-I need to find Noah. I won't let one small hiccup in our rehearsal spoil the duet competition.

It doesn't take long. I find him, predictably, sitting on the bleachers staring out at the empty football field. I wonder what he's always thinking about. No matter, I have more important concerns. "Hello Noah!" I tell him brightly, and he simply nods. His eyebrows raise a bit when he sees my outfit, but he doesn't mention it, so I continue. "I just wanted to apologize for running out on our rehearsal the other day. It was very unprofessional of me."

"It's cool," he replies with a shrug. "I'm, uh-sorry about the song. I didn't know. You know." Ughhh. _Must _he bring up the fact that I spent an embarrassing twenty minutes crying onto his shoulder about a boy?

"Oh, don't worry about it. You couldn't have known. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd want to try again? After school today in the auditorium?"

"Sure. Whatever." He digs through his pocket, and pulls out-oh my _God_-a pack of cigarettes. He lights one up as though it's the most natural thing in the world, and I am half-tempted to rip it out of his hand, but I don't want him getting mad at me just days before our performance.

"Noah!" I say instead, and he looks slightly amused. "That is really terrible for your health, and for your voice. And I have to say, I think it's sort of rude to be smoking around a non-smoker." At this, Noah pointedly blows a ring of smoke in my face, and smirks when I cough.

"You need to live a little, Miss Berry," he informs me, making me roll my eyes. I don't think a disgusting habit qualifies as "living a little." But, all right...seeing him sit there in a leather jacket with a cigarette hanging from his hand is a little-well-_sexy. _At least it would be if I was at all attracted to him.

"I thought you quit," is the brilliant remark that comes out of my mouth. This being cool thing is harder than I thought.

"I did. Mostly." He takes another drag. "But it calms me down when I get nervous." He stops talking abruptly and turns his head away, looking just as confused by what he said as I feel.

I have no idea what possesses me to inch closer to him and smile. No idea. I suppose it must be the Cosmos. This friendship with Quinn is certainly rubbing off on me. "Do I make you nervous, Noah?" I ask him in a voice that is not my own. _What am I doing?_

"You?" He scoffs a little, and I feel myself blushing. Why on earth would I say something so utterly ridiculous? "Please, like I've never seen a hottie in hip huggers before. It's just-you know-a football thing. I gotta run. See you later, Rach." And he is gone before I can process the fact that he called me _Rach_, and sort of gave me a backhanded compliment in the same breath. Not that I'm a tiny bit happy about it or anything.

Wait a second. _Isn't football season over? _


	8. Puck 3

**A/N: Told you there would be more soon! :). I'm kind of on a roll today. I might even get Quinn's part up before the night is over. If not, it'll be tomorrow for sure. Enjoy! And thank you yet again for your very kind reviews! :)**

A _football _thing? I've made up some stupid ass excuses in my lifetime, but that one has to be at the top of the list. Football season is _over, _for fuck's sake. And I want to know whose brilliant idea it was to have Rachel come to school looking like the intro to my wet dream fantasy. And when I find them, I either want to give them flowers or beat them into the ground. I haven't decided yet. Maybe both.

_Do I make you nervous, Noah? _Holy shit. I damn near swallowed my cigarette when she asked me that. Something's definitely up. And I'm pretty sure I know who's behind it.

"Q!" I corner her at her locker, trying to go for intimidating, but she's obviously totally unfazed by my badass-ness. She doesn't even look surprised to see me.

"Oh, hey Puckster!" She's smiling and acting obnoxiously cheerful, and I know for a fact that Quinn's not a morning person. She for sure did something. That bitch.

"What the hell's going on with Rachel?" Her smile gets even bigger, and so does my increasing urge to punch her in the face, mother of my kid or not.

"What, the outfit? It's great, isn't it? I have awesome taste." Well. I can't deny that. Rachel looks fucking smoking hot, like delicious, dirty hot. But, I gotta be honest, I kind of look forward to those twirly skirts and crazy-ass animal sweaters. They kind of get me going, in a naughty librarian kind of way. And they're kind of...Rachel. She wears those things around like they're straight off the runway and doesn't give a flying fuck what anyone else says. It's one of the things I love (shut up) about her. Quinn just keeps right on talking. She's definitely been taking some lessons from her new bestie. "Yeah, someone sent her an anonymous love note, and we're trying to get him-or her, I guess-to come out of the woodwork. I think maybe if he sees everyone checking her out, he'll get jealous and own up to it."

_No. _No fucking way is this happening. _My _note is gonna land my girl on some other guy's arm. Or in his bed. Holy fuck, I feel like killing something. Quinn just smiles at me, totally oblivious. "I think maybe it's this Ryan Kessler kid from our chem class," she plows on. "I swear he was staring at her ass the other day."

I just scowl at her. Honest to God, I would bloody her up right her and now if she wasn't basically my best friend. That bitch _knows _how much I like Rachel. What the hell is she doing, dressing her ass up for some other guy? And Kessler's next on my list.

"Ryan Kessler," is all I can manage to spit out, because if I say anymore, I know for sure I'll give myself away, and there's no way that would end well. Quinn just sighs.

"Puck, don't look at me like that. I know you like her, but it's not like you were doing anything to act on your little crush. She might as well be happy while you're pining away for her, and at least this mystery guy had the balls to do something about it. Even if it was, you know, anonymous." She studies me for a second. "You know, for about half a second, I thought it was you, what with our whole conversation about our letters to Beth. But let's face it, Puckerman. Not even Rach could make you do something _that _romantic."

Now I'm seriously pissed off. Who the hell does Q think she is, saying I can't be romantic? I'm a _stud_, for crying out loud. I could make every female in Lima drop their panties if I wanted to. Hell, I'm halfway there. If anyone knows about romance, it's Puckzilla.

"Hi guys!" Oh _shit, _now I'm totally screwed, because Rachel is standing right there, smiling her gorgeous fucking smile, and I'm totally losing my ability to concentrate.

"Hey Rach!" Quinn beams right back. "We were just saying how awesome you look today. You totally need to borrow my clothes more often."

"Thanks Quinn. I feel different, that's for sure. Noah-"

_Shit, shit, shit, shit. _

"Does 4:00 still work for you today? In the auditorium."

"Um-uh-" Wow, fucking brilliant. "Yeah. Um, yeah, that's cool."

And who should walk right the fuck by at the second, but Ryan Kessler. Oh sweet Jewish God, the urge to rip his nads off is almost overwhelming. Good thing I'm a changed man, because otherwise he'd be dead and I'd be in the slammer.

He pauses. He grins. "Hey Rachel," he says.

Rachel looks a slightly confused, but smiles her (gorgeous, sexy, stunning) smile back at him. "Oh, um. Hi Ryan."

And I _swear _Quinn's biting back a laugh. What the actual _fuck _is going on?


	9. Quinn 3

I should be an actress. No, seriously. I should get an Oscar for this. Everything is going perfectly according to plan. Puck's about to go into a fit of jealous rage, and I couldn't be happier about it. I find Ryan Kessler in the hall after school and slip the promised five dollar bill into his hand. "That was great," I tell him. "Really good. I'll give you another ten tomorrow if you ask how she is. Just remember, Puckerman _has_ to be able to hear you."

If the kid's at all confused by this strange business proposition, he doesn't show it; just shrugs and says "cool" before shoving the money into his pocket and slouching off. I have no idea if he's ever checked Rachel out, but whatever, it's not like it matters. He was totally the right pick to be her fake admirer. He's boring enough that Rachel won't actually be interested, but decent-looking enough that Puck will see him as a threat. And best of all, he's quiet and keeps to himself, so he won't be on anyone's radar. Completely perfect. I may have a future in this secret agent thing.

"Someone's awfully smiley today." Sam comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. "I take it the matchmaking's working out for you?" He thinks this whole situation is hysterical, which just goes to show how moronic Puck and Rachel are being. I mean, Sam's only known them for two months, and even he knows they're perfect for each other.

I turn and press a quick kiss to his lips. "Its more than working out. Puck'll be down on one knee in no time."

Sam just laughs. "You're crazy. Forget college, you could get recruited by the CIA today." He takes my hand and we start wandering towards the parking lot. "Wanna do something?"

"I'm supposed to rehearse with Tina at five, but I'll come over after." I drew Tina as my duet partner, which is totally fine by me. I've never had a problem with her, and our voices actually sound kind of awesome together. We already decided to sing "1000 Miles" by Vanessa Carleton. We probably won't win, but that's okay too. It's more important to Rachel than it is to me. I guess it kind of took me a while to realize that I kind of understand how bitchy she gets when she doesn't get a solo. I'm sort of the same, in a way. When Santana took my spot as Cheerio captain for like a day, I felt like the world was crashing down around me. We both need that spotlight to feel like we accomplished something.

"Hey," Sam nudges me gently in the side. "I should get going, but I'll see you tonight." He bends down to kiss my cheek, and walks off with a cute little wave, passing Rachel as he goes. "Hey Rachel," he says, and she just grins, heading straight for me. She really does look great. Honestly, bribing a kid to seem interested probably wasn't even necessary, because she's turning heads left and right.

"Quinn! Hi." She seems a little distracted. She's absentimindedly wringing her hands and she keeps nibbling on her bottom lip. Hehe. And I _bet_ I know why. Noah Puckerman has a ridiculous natural ability to get unsuspecting girls hot and bothered.

"Hey. Going to meet Puck?"

"What? Oh. Um, yes. For rehearsal." Her eyes dart cautiously back and forth, and she smooths her hair nervously. God, this girl sure does have a flair for the dramatic. Everything she does looks like it's straight out of a movie, even if she doesn't do it on purpose. "So I guess maybe you were right about Ryan."

"Yeah, I guess so. He's pretty cute, right?" _But not as cute as Puckzilla. _She smiles, but I've been tormenting Rachel long enough to know the difference between her real smile and her fake one, and this is one is purely for show.

"Yeah," she says, and though she looks happy on the surface, when I look into her eyes, I can see exactly what I was hoping for-disappointment. _Perfect._

"You should get going, girl. You're gonna be late." She nods, turning to go. "Hey Rach!" She whips her head back around to face me, her eyes questioning. "Put a jacket on or something, or else your duet's gonna be the furthest thing from Puck's mind. You should have seen him gawking at you earlier."

And I swear, her eyes light up like a Christmas tree. Hmm...maybe Rachel's Berry's not so pure of mind, after all.

Phase One was a definite success.


	10. Rachel 4

*****Yayyy, updates! I hope to have Puck and Quinn up by Tuesday. Enjoy! :). Also, listen to Ludo's "Streetlights" if you don't know it :)**

There is no denying that Noah Puckerman can sing. His voice is rich and smokey and carries it's own unique flavorings. It truly is beautiful to listen to, and is perfect for our song we're performing. He showed up to our rehearsal with a song suggestion, because he refuses to sing, and I quote, my "jazz-hand bullshit." It's a song I'd never heard before, called Streetlights by a band named Ludo, and while I'm usually adverse to singing numbers that aren't easily recognizable by the masses, it really is quite a gorgeous ballad. Noah plays the guitar in a way that sort of makes me wish I knew how to play guitar, and he looks me in the eyes when we sing together, which is always an amiable quality in a duet partner. And his eyes _are _rather intriguing, if I'm being honest. Looking at them makes my stomach twist in unfamilar ways, but I couldn't begin to tell you why.

It strikes me when the song is over how strange it feels to be singing a duet-a romantic song, no less- with a boy who isn't Finn, but it's not altogether a terrible feeling. At least, I don't feel like crying again. On the contrary, I don't feel particularly sad at all. I silently lower myself off the brightly lit stage and into one of the auditorium chairs, contemplating this bizarre feeling of contentment.

"You miss him?" Noah asks me, and there is no question as to who he is referring. I should be surprised that he's reading my mind, but I'm really not. I've always thought Noah to be rather perceptive, even when casually ignoring the feelings of others. What _does_ surprise me, however, is how easily my response comes.

"Not really," I reply, and I know when I say it that it's the truth. "I care about him deeply, and I don't like that he's angry at me, but I don't miss being his girlfriend." This is the first time I've put these thoughts into words, and it comes as something of a relief. Noah just looks at me, listening with either patience or genuine interest, I'm not sure which. "I miss the concept, I guess. That the most popular guy in school wanted to be with me, that he chose me out of all the girls he could have gotten. I loved the idea more than I loved him, you know?"

Noah nods, looking down and lightly scuffing this stage floor with his shoe. "Yeah, I actually do."

"You do?" This comes out more surprised-sounding than I meant it to. Noah just chuckles a bit and hops off the stage, sinking into the chair next to me.

"Well yeah, Berry. I know I'm not the most sensitive guy, but I'm not a robot. I know about feelings and shit." I already know that about him. I can see the emotion in his face when he performs, whether he knows it's there or not. "It's like this," he continues. "Last year, I thought I wanted to be with Quinn, right? Because she was having my kid, and that mattered to me. But when I look at it now, what I really wanted was to play house and be a daddy. Loved the idea, didn't love her. Kind of like that?"

"Exactly like that." I turn to look at him, slightly fazed by the similarity of the situations, but even more so by the fact that he's not in love with Quinn, as I've always thought. How could he not be, really? She's gorgeous and, as I know now, kindhearted and fun to be around. "You mean you don't have feelings for Quinn?"

He actually laughs out loud, which is rare, and is a pleasant sound to hear. "Fuck no," he tells me. "Quinn's awesome, but she's like...a sister or something. A really bratty, annoying sister."

"A sister you've had sex with," I point out, grinning.

"Knock it off with that, you're gonna make me puke," he jokes, punching me playfully in the shoulder. This time, it's my turn to giggle.

"I should go," I tell him. "My dad's waiting for me."

He nods, and we both stand. "Kay. I think I'll hang for a few minutes. I promised Mr. Schue I'd start practicing more. See ya." I smile and turn to leave. I am halfway to the door when he calls "hey Rachel!" I spin back around to look at him. He is grinning slightly, and it's refreshing to see him smile a genuine smile, and not an arrogant smirk. "You're pretty cool, you know. And for the record, Finn's always been kind of a dipshit." He waves, and I walk out the door with a big, cheesy smile on my face.

My phone rings as I'm walking through the hallway towards the parking lot, and Quinn's name pops up on the caller ID. Even though I guess we're sort of friends now, I hadn't expected to hear from her over the weekend, and I am curious. She probably wants her clothes back.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's Quinn. What are you doing tomorrow night?" What a strange thing to ask. I'm not really sure, myself. Now that I don't have a boyfriend to spend time with, I suppose I'll just watch make dinner and watch musicals with my dads.

"Nothing really. Why do you ask?"

"We should hang out." She says it so off-handedly, as though she's asked me to hang out a million times, and it's completely second nature. For a second, I am irrationally worried that she must be joking, and that if I say yes, she'll laugh cruelly and tell me to forget she ever spoke to me.

"Really?" I ask, and she giggles.

"Yes really, that's why I just said it. My parents are gone until Sunday. Wanna sleep over?"

And my smile spreads so big that my face feels like it might break in half.


	11. Puck 4

**A/N: So I read through the last couple chapters, and I noticed a couple typos. Sorry guys! This isn't beta-ed, so they're my fault. I've been pretty busy, so this is taking a liiiiittle longer than I originally planned, but I promise Quinn will be up soon-tomorrow or Thursday, hopefully :). Enjoy!**

I don't think I've ever loved Rachel more than I do right fucking now. (And yeah, I've been dropping the l-word left and right lately, but I owned up to that shit a long time ago. Well. In my head anyway). She's wearing fucking Hello Kitty pajama pants and a black t-shirt, and her hair is up in a messy ponytail, and I'm gonna sound like a goddamn bitch for saying this, but seeing her like this feels so...intimate, I guess. She stretches her arms back and yawns, and I have this sudden urge to just scoop her up and let her fall asleep in my arms, and that's a pretty weird ass thought for the Puckerone. Rachel's really fucked with my brain that way.

It was an hour ago that I got the call from Quinn. I had been lying on my bed reliving our little duet rehearsal for, oh you know, the millionth fucking time (she's over Finn, she's over Finn, she's over Finn) when "Highway to Hell" came blaring from my phone. "Hey," I said, pressing the phone to my ear, and then practically dropping it, thanks to the loud ass music in the background. "What the fuck is going on? What's all that noise?" I said this while holding the phone like a foot from my head, because I'm not actually interested in going deaf.

"Heyyy Puck!" Quinn was giggling, and I heard another, louder, laugh in the background. Rachel's laugh. I would know it anywhere. _What's up with these two lately, anyway? It's like they've suddenly gone lesbo or something. I wouldn't even mind, because that shit is hot. _"So Rachel's here, and Sam's gonna come by too. We're just playing Rock Band and chilling, but I know you said you didn't have plans. Wanna come hang out for a while?" Well, duh, like I would turn down an opportunity to see Rachel so I could lay on my bed and think about my goddamn _feelings. _I pretended to contemplate it for a minute, but I know for a fact I wasn't fooling her, seeing as how she knows I have actual feelings for Berry. If I didn't know Q so well, I would swear this was a pitiful attempt at a double-date, but Quinn's not the type to care that much about other people's shit.

"Can I bring booze?" That was a legit question too, because a tipsy Rachel is something I would definitely not mind seeing, but Quinn just sighed dramatically. She's for sure been hanging with Rach too much.

"I'm so not up for that. And Rachel doesn't drink, and I don't want her to be uncomfortable." I don't know when Quinn started giving a fuck about making _anyone _feel comfortable, especially Rachel Berry, but whatever. I wasn't about to be an asshole about it. The last thing I wanted was for her to un-invite me.

"I'll make an appearance. Be there in a few." I swear to God, I was in Quinn's driveway in six minutes flat. And even without the booze, it turned out to be possibly the best night I've ever had in my seventeen years on this earth.

See, as it turns out, Rachel laughs a whole fucking lot when she's not stomping around and pushing chairs over. Like for real, throwing her head back and shaking laughing. And it's kind of my new favorite sound in the whole world. I thought nothing could top her singing, but her laugh might just do it. She kinda threw a fit when she got a 43% on guitar, but giggled a little when I told her it was better than my geometry grade (when will I _ever_ need to know the area of a fucking scalene triangle? Oh, right. Never. Plus the nurse is a total MILF, even if my cougar days are numbered). "I'll help you with geometry if you help me improve my skills on this plastic guitar," she offered, and I smiled at her. The casual way she said it made it seem like we were actually _friends, _even though I have no idea why she'd want that after all the shit I put her through. But like a good friend or whatever I am now, I kneeled next to her and pressed the buttons while she strummed the fake guitar, biting her perfect bottom lip in concentration. She totally smells like vanilla. And she may possibly have shrieked and threw her arms around me when we got a perfect score, not that it's a big deal or anything.

She yawns again now, and this time Quinn does too. "Let's watch a movie or something. I'm tired," Q says, and Evans mutters some sort of agreement. Quinn asks if we've seen Inception, but I really could care less what the hell's happening on the tv. Rachel and Sam both shake their heads no, and Quinn sticks the DVD into the player before walking back to the couch and practically throwing herself in Sam's lap. Jesus, leave it to her to turn everything all awkward. Sam throws an arm over her, and she pulls a blanket over them, tossing another one over to me. "Sorry, I don't have any more," she tells me. "That one's pretty big though." Ha, what a little bitch. That's the most overdone trick in the book, which I practically wrote, and I've got plenty game without her help. I look over at her, expecting a wink or something, but she doesn't do shit.

"I'm good," I say, and hand the blanket to Rachel, who smiles at me.

Sam's snoring within seconds, and Quinn's close behind. Her eyes are half closed, and she yawns hugely, laying back on Evans's chest. The movie's playing, but I have no clue what's going on or what it's even about, because every ounce brainpower is focused on the girl sitting like an inch away. She lets out a tired sigh and leans her head against the back of the sofa, and that's when I decide. I decide that nobody, not Ryan fucking Kessler or anybody else, is stealing Rachel Berry away from me. I won't rest until I can call her my girlfriend. She's gonna be mine if it's the last thing I do.

_I love you_, I tell her silently, and that's my last thought before her head falls gently onto my shoulder.


	12. Quinn 4

**A/N: Heyyyy, lovely readers! So I know I told some of you in responses to your reviews that I would have more up by Saturday, but silly me-Saturday is Christmas! Duh. So make that Sunday. Sorry. Also, the way I have the story planned out, there are only 6 chapters left (2 from each character) after this one! Crazy, huh? Maybe I'll add an epilogue…I haven't decided yet. Anyway, thanks for making my first fanfic experience so enjoyable. I really appreciate it! Here's some Quinnie for you all—enjoy! And happy holidays! **

I think I'm a little bit in love with Rachel Berry. Obviously not in a lesbian way, even though I'm totally cool with alternative lifestyle choices or whatever. But honestly, last night is the hardest I remember laughing in, like…a long time. Even in the couple hours before we invited the boys over, when we were just laying around singing snippets of songs and watching random glee clubs on youtube, I kind of felt like the old Quinn. The Quinn before boyfriends and Cheerios and popularity. And I kind of really enjoyed it.

The sun is streaming through my windows, and I yawn, stretching my arms back, and craning my head to look at my alarm clock. 9:47 a.m. Glancing across the room, I notice that the futon where Rachel was sleeping is empty, but her enormous suitcase is still sitting next to it (yeah, it's true. She brought a rolling suitcase to a sleepover, along with a plate of homemade oatmeal cookies, because "a guest should never show up empty-handed." God. Sometimes I wonder if she's 17 or 70). I drop onto the floor, and pad down the hallway, glancing into the bathroom as I go. But there's no Rachel in there, so I head downstairs.

I find her standing in the kitchen, humming cheerfully to herself and pouring the contents of my blender into 2 glasses. She's fully dressed in one of her usual schoolgirl-meets-grandma getups, and—oh, my Lord—is her _hair_ curled? It's not just her, though. The counters are all scrubbed and shiny, the pizza boxes from last night are neatly broken down and on top of the garbage can, and there's a bottle of Windex sitting on the counter, and I don't even want to know what she was doing with that. _How long has she been up?_ I just stand in the doorway and gape stupidly until she notices me and beams like she just won the lottery.

"Morning!" She chirps, coming around the counter and pushing me gently onto a stool. "Sleep well? I took the liberty of making us a nutritious breakfast shake. I hope your mother didn't need those bananas for anything. I couldn't find any organic peanut butter in your pantry, but I think artificial just do just fine." She sets one of the glasses in front of me and looks at me eagerly.

God, I am _so _not a morning person. I can't handle that many words this early. I stare groggily back at her, trying to process anything she just said. She looks on silently for a minute, before shoving her concoction closer to me. "Drink it! It's good for you." She turns back around and starts rinsing off a cutting board in the sink. I take a sip of the shake, and it actually is pretty good. Not quite up to par with the s'more Pop Tarts I usually eat for breakfast, but not bad. "How did I get into your room last night?" Rachel asks me, now putting the cutting board into the dishwasher. "I don't remember going up there."

I have to smirk a little at this. "I had Puck carry you up before he left. You're a deep sleeper" I watch, amused, as her face turns tomato red, and she clears her throat. I knew getting Puck jealous would be a piece of cake, but getting Rachel on board is going way smoother than I thought it would.

"Oh. Well. That was kind of him."

"All right." I suddenly feel wide awake, and Rachel looks alarmed at my sudden energy boost. "Enough with the Bambi eyes, girly. Spill."

Now she really looks scared. "What do you mean?"

"You're totally hot for Puck!"

"Quinn! I am not." She blushes even deeper, and I bite back a laugh.

"Convincing. Your bright red face is a nice touch. You can tell me, you know." She just glares at me.

"Quinn." She says it obnoxiously slowly, like she's talking to a three-year-old. "I confess, I have seen a much gentler side to Noah in the past several days, and perhaps I would like to become closer to him as a friend, but I harbor no romantic feelings for him. At all. None." _Please. _

"Yeah, it seemed pretty friendly when I woke up on the couch and you were laying all over him."

"I fell _asleep_, I didn't mean to-" she stops abruptly, and I just give her a smug look, because I've obviously caught her. If she was asleep the whole time, she wouldn't know what I was talking about. She seems to surrender, because she glances away and nibbles on her bottom lip. "Did he happen to mention that at all?"

"No." And it's true, he didn't say anything, although the shell-shocked expression on his face said more than enough.

"Do…do you think he likes me?" _Obviously he does, you stupid girl. If _my_ head ended up anywhere near his shoulder, he would cut it off. _

I just shrug. "I know he likes you as a _person. _But, like, to date? I don't know. Probably not. He's not really the type, you know?" I admit, that's a low blow, even for me. But just like I know nothing gets Puck's ass into gear like a little competition, I also know that nothing makes Rachel want something more than knowing she can't have it. And just as I predicted, her face gets set and determined, her eyes staring straight ahead.

"Yes, that's true."

"Sooo….you admit you like him, then?"

She narrows her eyes at me again, and I smirk. "Don't be ridiculous. I never said that."

I have a feeling things are about to get much more interesting.


	13. Rachel 5

**A/N: Guys, I am SOOO sorry this took so long! Try not to hate me! I've been sooo busy, but I promise I haven't lost interest in the story! I really hope you haven't either. I promise there will be more soon, lovelies. Here ya go, and happy new year!**

I've imagined Noah Puckerman in many, many scenarios-in prison, for instance, or vandalizing brick walls. Or, you know...in my bed. On occassion. But sitting across from me in a sandwich shop, casually swiping fries off my plate? That is one place I have never pictured him, and I still find the image rather hard to wrap my head around. Just as I found the image of him slouching into glee club and straight into the chair beside mine extremely surreal. But it happened. "Hey," he said with a nod. "Good to see you alive. You sleep like such a rock, I thought maybe you kicked the bucket or something." _How embarrassing. _It struck me in that second that Noah has seen me in humiliating positions twice in the same week, and I found this realization a bit off-putting, though I don't have the slightest idea why that is.

Anyway, I have much more pressing things to worry about, because Finn and Mercedes performed their duet this afternoon. They were, in a word, sensational. Their rendition of "We Will Rock You" was perhaps one of the most well-executed performances I've seen out of New Directions, and that's saying an awful lot. Mercedes's wail has always made me feel a sort of envy, though I will never probably never admit that to anyone. Confidence is key, after all, even if it has to be faked. So when I casually suggested to Noah that we squeeze in an extra practice this afternoon before our performance tomorrow, I tried to give no indication that our competition had me completely terrified. Or that the thought of losing to Finn made me feel physically ill. He just shrugged. "You know we don't need it," he told me. "We'll demolish them either way. I'm starving, though. Let's go get some food."

And that's how I ended up with my legs sticking to a vinyl booth, watching Noah dump ketchup onto a burger. It's just been that kind of week, I guess. I probably shouldn't be surprised.

"So that Kessler kid seems to dig you," he says before taking a disgustingly massive bite. And it's true that Ryan smiled and waved at me as I followed Noah to his car, although when I think about it now, it doesn't make much sense, because I saw him twice earlier in the day and he didn't do a thing. _How strange. _Noah swallows his food and looks up at me, raising his eyebrows. "So? Have you dropped your panties for him yet?"

God. He is so crass. I narrow my eyes at him, but he just laughs, irritating me even further. "No, Noah. I have not _dropped my panties _for Ryan Kessler. I hardly even know him. Not that that's been a prerequisite for _your _sexual encounters." I have no idea why I'm so angry all of a sudden, but I am, and it came out of nowhere. I suppose it never struck me until now that Noah has been with dozens of girls, while I can count my make-out partners on one hand. And honestly, I am kind of infuriated by that. He's had _sex _with more women than I want to even think about. Does he not realize how incredibly _intimate_ that is? Has he honestly never had feelings for _any_ of them?

He has the decency to look a bit hurt at my sudden outburst, and I can feel my face becoming warm with embarrassment. Where did I get off yelling at him like that? It's not as though it's any of my business who he sleeps with. "Sorry," I mutter. "That was rude." He just looks at me curiously for a moment, and my cheeks grow even hotter.

"No worries. It was an honest reaction, which I personally think you should give more often." He takes the pickle spear off his own plate and sets it on mine. _Why? There's no way he remembers that I love pickles and pack them every day in my lunch. Right? _"Anyway," he continues. "I'll have you know that I'm pretty damn selective about who I sleep with."

"Have you ever really liked a girl? Like, you wanted to have a relationship with her?" For some reason, I have a strong desire to know the answer to this, and it's not because Quinn's comment about his not being the type bothered me at all. At least, I don't think it is.

"Yup." I want desperately for him to elaborate, but he doesn't, and I decide I've done enough prying, so I change the subject.

"So. Are you nervous to perform our duet tomorrow?" He grins a little at this.

"Nope, and you shouldn't be either." There he goes again with his utterly annoying ability to read minds.

"I'm not."

"You totally are." He's right of course, but there's no way I'm admitting it to him. "But you shouldn't be. Your voice is killer, and we both know it. We've got this thing in the bag." And he sounds so completely confident that I almost start to believe him. I'm also a little bit pleased that he thinks my voice is "killer." I smile at him, and he smiles back.

"Thank you, Noah. You have a lovely voice yourself. If we do win, it will be just as much because of you." I swear, for just a miniscule second, his cheeks turn a bit pink, and I feel more affectionate towards him in that instant than I think I ever have before.

"Thanks, Berry," he mumbles, and just as quickly as it disappeared, his rough exterior is back. "We should get going before your dads start wondering where I dumped your body." He digs his wallet out of his back pocket. I take mine out as well, but he shakes his head. "You're may be you, but you're still a girl, and the lady never pays with the Puckster. My mama raised me right." He smirks a little and slaps a few bills onto the counter. "Now let's go." He holds the door open for me when we reach it, and I find myself grinning stupidly at him.

Like a girl who has a little crush.


	14. Puck 5

It's pretty fucking incredible how the whole damn world can turn on it's axis, and nobody else seems to notice. Sure, everybody clapped and said cheered, and Schue beamed, but it seems I'm the only person in the room who recognizes our duet as what it was. And what is was is...well. I don't really know, I guess. But it was more than a duet. It was like vocal sex or something. The way she looked at me when we sang totally gave me the overwhelming urge to drag her into the nearest cave and have my way with her. A stronger desire than usual. I'm even breathing a little heavy, and I know it's not just from those long notes. Rachel is still smiling up at me, and I have to smile back. "Told you we would kill it," I tell her quietly, and she laughs. Does she feel the same knots in my stomach that I do? I can't tell, and it's not like I can fucking ask her. _Hey Rach, do you feel like time just stopped when we sang together? _Ha. That would go over great.

We're quiet for a minute as the rest of the club starts leaving the room, gossping about stupid shit like everything's totally normal. "Can you still give me a ride home?" She asks, and I nod. The text she sent me this morning was like a paragraph long, and completely hilarious, in a Rachel way. Instead of just asking for a ride like a normal human being, she ranted about how her dads were going to a seminar on raising gifted teenagers, and how she asked Quinn, but Quinn has something for Cheerios, and "if it's not too much trouble" she would appreciate if I would be willing to "provide her transportation." It actually made me laugh out loud, because God, this girl is like an alien or something. Obviously I said yes, because I'm whipped like a horse. No big deal. I'm digging out my keys when I hear the cough behind me, and the voice. Oh, shit.

"You guys were really good." Finn has his hands stuffed in his pockets, and is totally looking at Rachel, but hey, at least he's not trying to rip me a new one. This is the first sentence he's said to me since the you-treat-your-girl-like-shit-so-I'll-show-her-what-she's-missing incident, and I'll take whatever I can get. It's Rachel who answers, obviously.

"Thank you, Finn," she tells him, sounding like she's running for fucking president like she always does. "You and Mercedes were wonderful yesterday. As your co-captain, I was very impressed." He just gives her that stupid sideways smile and those puppy dog eyes he's so fucking good at. (How does he do that anyway? Because honestly, if that was the only way to get Rachel, I'd be on my knees begging him for lessons).

"Thanks, Rach. Puck..." He turns me me now. "Can I talk to you alone for a sec?"

_Fuck._

"Sure, dude." I hand Rachel my keys. "You mind warming up my car? I'll be there in a few." She looks confused, but nods, and we both watch her leave. Finn is quiet for a minute, but I totally know what's coming. The kid may be kind of a moron, but he's been my friend since we were in diapers, and he's a goddamn genius when it comes to my love life. Well, sex life usually, but whatever.

Sure enough, he cuts straight to the point. "You like her," he says, and it is not a question. For a second, I think about denying it, but shit, it's gonna get around sooner or later, and he might as well hear it from me. I've fucked with his life enough.

"Yeah."

He looks pissed off for about half a second, but it disappears pretty fast, and he just looks at me like I'm a sort-of interesting TV show or something. "She likes you too. I can tell." _Yeah, right._ He's quiet for another minute, but then shrugs. "She's awesome, you know?" _Of course I fucking know._

"She really is," I tell him, and because I'm totally a glutton for punishment, I ask the question I've been dreading the answer to. "You still love her?"

"I'll always love her. But...I don't know. Santana and I have been hanging out a little, and-I don't know. Maybe there's something there." Normally I would laugh at that, because for Lopez, _something _means a good lay, but it's kind of true that Satan's slightly less heinous when he's around. Who the hell could have known? He shrugs again. "Just-be good to her, okay? Better than I was. She deserves it." And then it's over. He slaps me on the back and strolls out of the room, and I know that's all it takes for us to be cool again. Damn, I love being a guy. Even if he's shit wrong about her liking me. He's still Finn after all, and therefore totally retarded.

When I get to the car, Rachel is sitting in the passenger seat, fiddling adorably with the radio. "Hey," I say, and she smiles, but it's not her zillion-watt show smile. She looks a little sad, actually, and I'm not sure when in the hell I started noticing shit like that. I kind of want to hug her. What's _wrong _with me lately?

"What did Finn want to talk about?"

"Nothing really. He just wanted some workout tips."

"Oh." I can tell she doesn't believe me, but she doesn't say so, and we drive in silence until we reach her driveway. "Noah?" she asks shyly, and my heart beats a little faster when she says my name. "Can I say something?"

"Sure."

She turns toward me, but she's not looking me in the eye, which is pretty weird for her. She usually stares straight at people to the point of creeping them out. "I'm glad you grew your mohawk back."

I let out a surprised laugh, and she gives a hesitant smile. Not a sad one, either. "Me too," I reply. Now can I say something?" She nods. _I love you, I love you, I fucking love you. _"I like your crazy cat sweater." This time, she giggles, and her cheeks flush pink. _God, she's beautiful. _I'm thinking maybe I'll ask if she wants to chill sometime this week, like sort of a date, only not really, because there's no way I'm gonna ruin this totally perfect day with a rejection, and I've gotten pretty damn good at spinning things to sound different than what they actually are.

I open my mouth to ask her, but before I can say a single word, she leans over and presses her lips to mine.


	15. Quinn 5

13 missed calls and 7 new voicemails? Jesus Christ. I knew I was popular, but my Cheerios practice was only an hour long. Either something major went down, or Sam's reached dangerous cling-zone. Lying down across my bed, I punch in my password and press the phone up to my ear. "_First message: _Quinn!" Rachel's voice. "Oh goodness, I forgot you had Cheerios."

Seriously, how could she possibly forget? We _just_ talked about it in Glee. She may be totally adorable, but I stand by all those times I called her a freak, because she is Class A freaky. When I turn my attention back to the phone, she's still talking. What else is new?

"…a situation, I suppose you could call it, and I just need to get it off my chest. Um. Can you just call me back when you get this? Please? Oh, this is Rachel. Okay. Call me back. Bye."

"_Second message:_ Hi, it's me again. Rachel. I really need to talk to you. You're probably still at practice. I'll try again in a few minutes. Talk to you soon. Bye."

"_Third message: _Q, it's me." _Puck._ "Just call me, okay? It's not, you know, a big deal or anything." _Says the guy who sounds like he just ran a marathon. What the hell is going on? _ "Just whenever you have a sec. Okay. Talk at ya."

Okay, I don't need to sort through the rest of these voicemails to know that something's obviously up.

I dial Rachel's number first because she sounds like she's about to go into shock or something, and she picks up halfway through the first ring. "Quinn! It's great to hear from you. How are you?" _Only you, Rach. Good Lord. _

"I'm awesome Rachel, but cut the crap. What the hell's going on?" There is a pause and then a large sigh.

"I—I—well, I kissed Noah, I guess." I sit up so fast, I actually feel kind of dizzy.

"You _what?_ And what do you mean, you _guess? _That's not something that just _sort of_ happens, you either did or you didn't._"_

"Yes. Well. I did._"_

"Rach!" I honestly am completely stunned right now. I was 100% expecting Puck to try and seduce her or whatever it is he does, but _Rachel? _If this is thanks to my planning, I deserve a Nobel Peace Prize or something, because this is incredible.

"I know, I know," she's saying. "But I didn't mean to! It's just—he was being so nice, and he was just _there, _and those _eyes_-I just-do you know what I mean?" I actually do know. Puck's hot, even if I want to hit him most of the time, and he has a certain way of making a girl feel special when he wants to. The difference is that he just wanted in my pants. With Rachel, he actually wants…_her_. All of her. He can spin it to me in any sort of badass angle he wants, but I'm not an idiot. The boy is lovesick with a capital L.

"Yeah," I tell Rachel. "I get it. He's not the seduction master of McKinley for nothing. Sooo…how was it? What did you do afterwards?"

"Oh, Quinn." I can practically feel her eyes going all moony. God, this is gonna make me puke. "It was…wonderful. And passionate. And his hands were on my face, and—"

_Beeeep. _I pull the phone away and look at the screen. Call waiting from Puck. I smile to myself. This is gonna be fun. I am such a good friend.

"Hey Rach, I'm sorry, but I have to go for one sec, Puck's calling me."

"He _is? _Quinn, please don't-" But I have no idea what she doesn't want me to do, because I already clicked over to the second line.

"Hey," I tell him, putting my obviously ingenious acting skills to work, and sounding totally nonchalant. "I just got your voicemail. But could I actually call you back in a few minutes, I've got Rachel on the other line." He actually gasps like he's in a movie, and I have to press a hand over my mouth, because I'm about to totally lose it.

"Rachel? Oh, shit. Fuck. What the fuck did she tell you?"

"What do you mean?" _Hahahahahahaha._

"You mean she _didn't _tell you?"

"Puck. You're being annoying. She didn't tell me what?"

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Um, it's really none of your business, but we're talking about Miss Pillsbury divorcing that dentist guy." _Nice, good cover, Quinn_. "Do you mind explaining what you're ranting on about?"

"Holy shit, I can't believe she didn't tell you. She kissed me, Q. She kissed me and then totally bailed. Like, ran off like I burned her or something."

"Who did?"

"_Rachel! _Jesus, pay attention." By this point, I'm practically convulsing with silent laughter, and I have to hold the phone away for a second and take some deep breaths.

"Oh," I tell him calmly when I've finally pulled myself together.

"Oh? Did you just hear what I said?"

"Obviously. Listen Puck, I don't wanna be rude, but it's not like she's the first girl you've kissed. I mean, okay, it's a little bizarre that it's Rachel, but you've had weirder hookups. Remember the lunch lady in seventh grade?" He chooses to ignore that little trip down Memory Lane, not that I blame him.

"But it's fucking Rachel _Berry." _

"I know, thanks. And I know you sort of had a thing for her, but we both know you're not the legit dating type. Now that you got that out of your system, you can move on, right? You're just…not the most sensitive guy. And there's nothing wrong with that."

For the record, I realize that's an ultra bitchy thing to say. But I know Puck better than almost anybody, and if someone tells him he can't do something, he will fight to the death trying to prove them wrong. And thinking that Rachel isn't ready to throw herself into her arms will drive him up a damn wall.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. See you tomorrow, Q." And with a click, he's gone.

"Rach, you still there?"

"Yes! I'm still here! What did Noah say?"

"Oh, um…." _Come on, Quinn, what would he be calling you about? Quick, quick, quick. _"He just wanted the history assignment." _Okay, not your best. _

She doesn't seem to care that Puck hasn't been to history in the better part of a year. "Oh," she says simply. "He…he didn't mention the kiss at all?"

"Nope," I tell her, and she is silent for a minute. "Listen babe," I say. "I know you like him—"

"I don't like him."

"—but this kind of thing isn't exactly rare for him, you know? He's a great friend, Rach, and he cares about you. But he's not Finn. He's not romantic or lovey-dovey, and he might not ever be." There is another moment of silence. "You okay?" I ask her.

"Yes, of course," she responds, and if she wasn't my friend, I would probably believe her. "I should go do my homework. Thanks for listening." And then she's gone.

This is getting crazy now. There's only a matter of time before everything hits the fan. _And I can't wait._


	16. Rachel 6

**A/N: As always, thanks so much for all the reviews and support! We're in the home stretch now-just 3 more chapters and an epilogue! Hope you enjoy **

I, Rachel Berry, am a certifiable idiot. What in the name of Barbra Streisand was I thinking, letting Noah get under my skin? And kissing him like that? Oh, heavens. He gave me the impression he was interested, yes, but that's what he _does._ He tells unsuspecting girls what they want to hear. What did I expect? That he would pull me into his (beautiful) arms and declare his undying love for me? Well…yes. That _is_ what I expected. I didn't even like him (or at least I don't think so. I'm sure the crushing pain in my chest has more to do with my bruised ego than anything).But just as I did with Finn, I clung to the idea of a boy like that willingly spending time with me. And I ruined it. And that's why I'm sitting in the empty auditorium after school. Not hiding. No, Rachel Berry never hides from her problems. Just…avoiding unnecessary and awkward encounters.

You would think I'd be used to this feeling of humiliation by now. My constant need to express what I feel has led to more embarrassing situations than I am willing to own up to, but the truth is that it never stings any less. I've never accepted the feeling that everyone is sitting around laughing at me. _I wonder how many people he's told._ Just as I am certain I'm about to start crying, he knocks on the open door frame and strolls casually down the aisle with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and I blink back the tears with every ounce of determination I have. He will _not_ see me cry. Again.

"Pretty weak, as far as hiding spots go," he says, lowering himself into the chair next to mine. "I expected better from a Jew." He chuckles a little at his own joke, but I just roll my eyes, and he grows silent. "Rachel," he says after a minute, and I can feel him looking at me, but I simply can't look into those eyes right now. Those eyes are dangerous, I know that now. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not."

"That's bullshit." I find myself, as usual, admiring his ability to correctly interpret the actions of others. "You've been avoiding me all day. You totally ran the other direction when I tried talking to you earlier. You could at least tell me why I'm getting the cold shoulder." I don't say anything and another minute of silence passes before he sighs heavily. "We gotta talk about yesterday."

That is the _last _thing I want to discuss right now, or ever. Not the way he sighed into my mouth or the way he ran his hands through my hair, or the way he murmured my name when we pulled apart. Does he do that with all of them? Has he spent all these years perfecting the art of making every girl he touches feel like the only girl he's ever seen? "

"No, we don't," I reply, and I'm trying very hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice, because when it comes down to it, this isn't his fault. I was the one naïve enough to fall victim to his charm. I don't need or want him to apologize. I'm not interested in his pity.

"Yes. We do." Surprised, I turn to look at him before I can stop myself. He's never been big on talking after our previous kisses. Does he make a point of having discussions with every desperate girl who throws herself at him? "Look, Rachel, I'm not usually into talking about shit like this, so I would take the opportunity now, if I were you. You may never get it again."

_Ugh. Fine. _"Noah," I say, and he raises his eyebrows inquisitively. "It's not your fault, and you don't need to apologize for your lack of romantic feelings towards me. I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I wasn't thinking properly, and it won't happen again." _Straight and to the point. Excellent. _

"I wasn't going to apologize," he mumbles, and I feel embarrassment coloring my face again. Of course he wasn't going to apologize. He's the _Puckster_, after all. Why on earth would he feel any sort of guilt over toying with my emotions? Or—it suddenly occurs to me-what if he had no ulterior motive at all? It's not as if _he_ was the one to attack my face with his. What if he was simply trying to be nice to a fellow Jew, as he claimed he would? Suddenly I can't decide which would be worse. "Look, Rachel," he continues, and I don't understand why he looks to skittish all of a sudden. "I like you, okay?"

"I like you too," I say, and I mean it. He's gotten a bad reputation, but he's a very kind-hearted person. "You've been very kind to me."

"No, I mean-"

"Noah." I cut him off, because I can't stand the idea of dissecting my moronic actions any further and also because…well, I suppose it does hurt a little bit. Only a little, though. "There is nothing more to discuss. You're a very good-looking young man, as you know, and you've been a wonderful friend to me. I was missing Finn, and I let myself get carried away. That's all. And I'm sorry."

"_Finn?_" There is a new expression in Noah's eyes now, one that is familiar, but that I'm finding very difficult to place, and I'm not sure why, but it makes me feel a bit sick to my stomach. "I thought you were over him." He sounds almost angry.

"I-I am. I'm over him. What I meant to say was, I missed having that physical connection with someone, and yesterday, in the car, you were just there and…" _What am I even talking about? _

"So that's what that kiss was to you?" He definitely sounds angry now. He's almost spitting his words out. _Why? _"You were using me as a placeholder for St. Finn?" I am feeling more bemused by the second. That's not what the kiss meant to me, and I know it, but why would he care?

"No," I tell him. "Of course not. I mean-I just-you're my friend, right? We're friends. So it was a friendly kiss. Between friends. We both know that you don't really like dating, and even if you did, you should date someone like Santana, or-or…I don't know. But not me!" The words are pouring out now, and I know already that this is going to lead to even more humiliation, but I can't stop myself. Noah is just staring at me, and I can't tell if he's mad or confused. "And if I wanted to date anyone right now, which I don't, it should be someone like Finn. Or…or Ryan." The silence that follows seems to last forever, and I look down at my lap, because his gaze is slowly undoing any sort of dignity I have left.

"Ryan." He says it quietly, and he doesn't look as upset anymore. "Do you like him?"

"I don't know him. But…I guess….that's the kind of guy I'll probably end up with, right? Someone uncomplicated."

He nods slowly and stands up to leave. "Well, as long as you're okay and everything." I nod and give him a small smile that he doesn't return. He's halfway through the door before he turns around. "Rachel," he says, and I look up at him. "You should know one thing." He takes a few deep breaths, as though he's preparing to give a long-winded speech, but what he does say is only one sentence. "Fucking Ryan Kessler didn't write you that note."

_What? How does he know that? _As a matter of fact, how does he know anything about that note at all? I've never mentioned it to him. I'm sure Quinn hasn't, as she's the one who swore me to secrecy in the first place.

"How do you-?"

"I did."

It hits me as he walks out the door that I know exactly what that look in his eyes was. It's the same way he looked after Regionals last year, when he slouched into the waiting room of the hospital and announced that Quinn had given birth to a healthy baby girl, and that all the adoption paperwork had been taken care of. It wasn't anger; it was pure, undiluted pain.

It's not until that second that I consciously think the words I suspect I may have known all along: I am completely in love with Noah Puckerman. _What have I done?_

I turn around one last time to make sure he's not still standing there. And when all I see is row after row of empty chairs, I finally let myself burst into tears.


	17. Puck 6

Fuck, fuck, fuck my life. Everything sucks. And as much as I would like to throw out some bullshit Rachel-ey line about how much worse it could be, that would be a complete lie. The only girl I've ever loved is not only using me as a sub for Thy Holy Hudson, but she also thinks I'm using her for some under-the-panty action-for legit reasons, which only makes it suck a million times harder. So yeah, it couldn't get much fucking worse.

And Jesus, it's not like Quinn's helping with this brutal honesty kick she's on. She was nicer when she was preggo, and she was in full-on bitch mode then, so that's saying something. I know we're supposed to be friends, and friends tell it like it is and whatnot, but would it fucking kill her to be the tiniest bit nice about it? Well. It is Quinn. So yeah, it probably would.

Speaking of Quinn, where the hell is she anyway? I've been knocking on her door for like five minutes, and it's hella cold outside. I pull out my phone and double check the text she sent this morning to make sure I'm not losing my mind. Nope, it's exactly how I remember it. **Message from**: Q.** Message. **Hey, would u do me a big favor and stop by before school? there's a heavy box i need out of the attic. thanx :).

I know, right? Another girl just wants me for the brawn. Whatever, I guess I fucking better get used to it, since that's probably where the rest of my life is headed. But if I'm gonna be nice and come play pack mule, she could at least answer the damn door, right? But it's not like I haven't been here before, and even though her mom kind of wants me castrated, I didn't see her car in the driveway. So I push open the front door and let myself in.

"Q?" I call from the doorway. "Where the hell are you?" No answer. "Quinn?" I venture a little further into the house, poking my head into the den and the kitchen, but nothing. _What the fuck? _I take the stairs two at a time up to her room. The door is closed, but I hear movement behind it, and I'm about to yell through the door to make sure she's not naked or anything when I hear it-the worst sound in the world. This is the second time this week I've heard Rachel crying, and it's really not any easier than the first time around. It occurs to me for like a second to wonder what she's doing there, but before I can think it through, she starts to talk. For the record, I know it's bad to eavesdrop and all, but hey, Q _told_ me to come over, right? So if I happen to hear a snippet of their conversation, it's not my fucking fault. The fact that I now have my breath sucked in and am pressed up against the door, not moving a muscle, is totally beside the point.

"Quinnnn," she chokes out, and it almost makes me wanna cry too, as pussy as that is. "I feel _awful." _ She sounds kind of muffled, like she's crying onto Quinn's shoulder, and I sort of think it should be mine._ "_I feel worse than I did when we got third at regionals or when Adam Lambert lost American Idol." _God, she is every kind of crazy. _

"Shhh, sweetie, I know, I know, it's okay..." Quinn is murmuring little soothing phrases and making "shhh" sounds, but it's sure as shit not doing anything to calm Rachel down.

"I-I-I _love _him, and he-you were right, and-" She breaks into a sob, and I feel my jaw tensing like it does when I'm about to kick some douchebag's ass. _Fuck. My. Life. _I should have fucking known this was all about Finn. She's still bawling, and even though Finn and I are buds again, that doesn't mean I don't want to go give him a vasectomy right now, because I totally do. The moron. I may be a badass, but I can't listen to any more of this. Quinn's box or whatever can wait. I'm about to slip my ass right back down those stairs and out the front door when she talks again. "I-the note-I can't believe it was him, and I thought-and oh my _God_!"

No way. No. Way. No fucking way. Now I couldn't move even if I wanted to.

_I love him. _Holy shit.

The thought that hits me on the head out of nowhere is something that I can't believe never dawned on me until right now. Quinn has a ripped boyfriend who basically worships the ground she walks on...so why would she need me to come get a box? _Because there is no box, you dipshit. Because she wanted me to hear this. _Oh my God.

_"For half a second I thought it was you...not even Rach could make you do something that romantic..."_

She fucking _knew_. She knew everything this whole time and was totally playing both of us like the ice queen she is, and I'm an idiot for eating it up. That _bitch! _I don't think I've ever been more proud of her, to be honest, not even when she was pushing a kid out her vag. I always fucking knew there must be a reason she's my best friend.

Rachel fucking loves me. Not likes. Not tolerates. _Loves, _and it's definitely making my chest do weird ass jumping jack things, but holy shit it feels awesome.

I know what's supposed to happen now. Quinn wants me to burst into the room and pull Rachel into my arms and tell her that I'll never make her cry again. And yeah, it's a little tempting, but she is fucked if she thinks the Puckster's gonna go that quietly.

Finn never made her feel special, he admits it himself. He hid her away, he never wanted to show her off. He never sang to her. And hell, if I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna do it big. I pull out my phone again and sneak down the stairs as quickly as I can, dialing Artie's number as I go.

"Hey bro," I say when he answers. "I need your geek skills."

"Sure, of course. Anything for helping me get with Britt."

"Meet me outside Figgins's office in ten. We've got a lot of shit to do."

She thinks a lame-ass note is the best I can do? Just you wait, Rachel Berry, because you're on the Puckerman Express now, and we're headed for a shitload of romance.


	18. Quinn 6

****Wowww, guys, I am so sorry this took so long! Crazy couple of weeks, I tell ya. Well, enjoy the final 2 chapters! New episodes soon, weeeee! :D**

So believe it or not, this isn't actually how I pictured this going down. It's been half a school day and Puck hasn't said anything to Rachel. And by nothing, I mean absolutely zilch. Not even a hi, how are you. So now, instead of being skeeved out of my mind, watching them dry hump in the cafeteria, I'm holding Rachel's hand and silently praying that she doesn't burst into tears again. Way to man up, Puckerman.

Where the hell is he, anyway? Lunch is almost over, and he's been conspicuously absent. For the past couple of weeks, most of the glee kids have been sitting together, and, reputation be damned, he's been at that table every single day, without fail. Except today.

Mercedes notices too. "Anyone seen Puck?" She asks, and Rachel's vice grip on my hand grows even tighter. "He was in Spanish this morning. I remember because he told me he couldn't see the board over my ghetto-ass weave." She rolls her eyes, but she's grinning as she does it. 'Cedes and Puck love taking digs at each other, but they do it more affectionately than anything. They've sort of formed a weird bond over the fact that they're both insufferable loudmouths.

"Oh. Um." Artie raises his hand slightly, like he's in class or something. "He said he wasn't gonna eat with us today. He..uh...he went to get dip."

_What? _No way am I buying that line of crap. I've known Puck to do a lot of stupid things, but never, ever once has he run away from something he was afraid of. He doesn't have it in him. And come to think of it, Artie was late to first period this morning, which is almost a groundbreaking event in history. Something's definitely up. Using my one free hand, I take my phone out of my purse and send Artie a text: _Wtf? _His response comes not a second later.

**New message from:** Artie. **Message:** Can't tell. You'll see :).

Huh. Whatever. As long as he does something about Rachel, I could care less what it is.

Honestly though, I don't think I've ever seen her look so defeated, even after getting dumped by Finn. I don't think she's said a single word the whole time we've been sitting here, and even Santana is looking at her with some level of concern. "Are you okay?" I ask her under my breath. "Wanna hang out later? We can have a musical night if you want."

She just smiles a small, slightly sad, smile. "Thank you for that kind offer Quinn, but I think I'd rather be alone tonight." She stand up from the table suddenly, and everyone else looks up at her, alarmed. "I think I'm going to spend the rest of lunch in the choir room. I have something I'm working on for Glee. See you all at rehearsal." Finn gives a cheeful, oblivious goodbye and Rach turns to go, but she doesn't make it five steps before the intercom lets out an obnoxious squeal and the whole cafeteria jumps.

"Ahem. Um. Hey McKinley!"

_Oooh my God. No. Fucking. Way._ It's Puck's voice over the loudspeaker, amplified a thousand times. Rachel freezes in her tracks, and when I glance at Artie, he gives me a sublte wink.

"Noah Puckerman here with a very important announcement." By now the entire cafeteria has gone completely silent. Kids are looking at each other either with amused expressions, expecting a Puckster-type prank, or utterly confused. Rachel just looks like a deer in headlights, and I stand up to pull her back to the table, but before I can reach her, he speaks again. "For your lunchtime entertainment, there will be a surprise rooftop concert starting immediately. I've got something to say to Rachel Berry, and you're all gonna hear it, whether you like it or not."

I swear to you, within miliseconds, every set of eyes in that cafeteria is on Rachel. She's not soaking up the attention like she usually would, though. Instead, she kind of looks like she wants to sink into the floor. She whips her head around to face me, eyes wide and fearful, but I can only stare back, because what the hell am I supposed to do?

There are a couple of thuds over the intercom like he's moving things around, and then a second of silence before he starts to play. And I swear, when he strums those first few chords on his guitar, I think my heart might burst with happiness, because damn it, this boy is in _love_. Rachel gasps in recognition and I smile at her so hugely my cheeks start to ache. "About damn time," I hear Santana mutter, but when I turn around, she is grinning too.

_"Where it began, I can't begin to know when. But then I know it's growing strong." _

The kids who aren't still staring at Rachel are out of their seats, streaming towards the doors.

_"Oh, wasn't the spring. And spring became the summer. Who'd believe you'd come along?"_

Rachel, who's been rooted to the spot, turns suddenly and runs faster then I ever believed she could, pushing through crowds of students, fighting her way to the exit, and before I know it, the rest of the club is taking off after her, pulling me with them, gigantic cheesy smiles plastered on every one of their faces.

_"Hands, touching hands." _

Puck is a natural showman, working the crowd, oozing confidence with every note, every strum of his guitar, every facial expression.

_"Reaching out, touching me, touching you..."_

I can see him scanning the crowd, looking for Rachel, the only one that matters.

_"Sweet Caroline..." _

"Buh, buh, buh," the entire student body responds, and Puck smirks cockily. Mike puts his hands on Rachel's waist, hoisting her up onto a metal railing, holding her steady so she can see over the crowd. A small tear falls gently down her cheek, but she looks happier than I've ever seen her, and when Puck finally notices her, he smiles like I've never seen him smile before.

They lock eyes, and they're only seeing each other, and I don't think I've ever witnessed anything more beautiful.


	19. Epilogue

"What happened next, Auntie Quinn?" Charlotte Puckerman bounces up and down impatiently and takes a massive bite of the chocolate layer cake her daddy made for her seventh birthday.

Quinn Fabray laughs and ruffles her hair. "I think it's your mom's turn to talk for a while," she says, and Charlotte turns to her mommy expectantly.

"Well..." Rachel sighs deeply and glances at the ceiling, as though trying to collect her thoughts. "Your daddy came down from that roof and walked toward me through that whole crowd of people," she begins, grinning at the memory. "He looked very handsome, as I recall."

"Obviously," Noah interjects, and Charlotte giggles when Quinn shushes him.

"He stopped right in front of me, and just..._looked _at me. I was so nervous. I couldn't think of anything to say."

"Yeah, you could." Noah drapes an arm loosely around his wife. "You said you really liked the song, but I was still missing that high B." This time, Quinn laughs along with Charlotte.

"Oh, yes!" exclaims Rachel. "That's right. And then I asked you why you sang it."

"Mhmm. Do you remember what I said?"

Rachel smiles up at her husband, knowing that this particular memory was one she could never erase, as long as she lived. "You said 'because you love me, and I had to show you that I love you, too.'"

"Awww!" Charlotte sighs dreamily and leans her head against Noah's other arm. "Daddy, that's so sweet! That's like a movie or something!"

Noah leans down and kisses the top of her head. "Yeah, well. Your old dad was kind of a stud back in the day, sweetheart." Quinn rolls her eyes.

"So, there you have it," Rachel says, clapping her hands together. "The story of how Mom and Dad fell in love, and how Mommy found her two best friends."

"And how Daddy ended up with his three favorite girls," Noah adds, gesturing around the room.

"And soon-to-be favorite boy," Rachel reminds him, gesturing down at her swollen belly.

"It's a good story," Charlotte says with authority. "I think I'll tell it to my baby brother after he's born. But," she makes a face. "I still can't believe Uncle Finn used to be your boyfriend. That's yucky. I'm gonna tease him about it next time he visits from Ohio." Rachel laughs.

"Go for it, sweetie. I always tease him about it, too. What I can't believe is that your Aunt Quinn went behind my back like that, and didn't tell me until tonight!" Quinn and Noah both burst out laughing, and Rachel glares at her best friend, but within seconds, she is laughing too. "Well, I suppose it's my fault for not piecing it together."

"Well, guys," Quinn stands up off the couch, brushing the cake crumbs off her shirt. "It's time for Auntie Quinn to go."

"Yeah, she has a _daaaate_," Noah mocks, raising his eyebrows jokingly, and apparently forgetting the fact that he's the one who set her up on this blind date in the first place, with some coworker of his that he insisted she'd like. He stands up to give her a hug, and then she leans down and kisses Charlotte's forehead. "Happy birthday, pumpkin. Thanks for inviting me over for your birthday dinner."

"Duh, you had to come. Thanks for the new clothes. I love them."

Rachel walks her to the front door and hands her her coat. "We're really glad you were able to leave work early to come over," she says, before glancing behind her and dropping her voice to a whisper. "I can't fucking _believe you_! You are ridiculous!" Quinn laughs again.

"Come on, we were just kids." Rachel is silent. "Sweetie, do you honestly believe that if I hadn't done anything way back in high school, that you wouldn't have ended up together?"

"Well, _yes. _If you hadn't told him to write that little note, if you hadn't-_" _

"Be serious. Maybe I gave you a little push, but you two-_this_-this has nothing to do with me. This is fate."

Rachel pauses a minute before laughing and embracing her best friend. "You know," she whispers. "Someday we'll have to tell her the uncensored version. The version that includes your bastard child and Finn's sexcapades with Santana and Noah taking my virginity that same night."

"Give it another twenty years or so."

Rachel kisses Quinn's cheek and holds open the door. "Have fun tonight. Call later and tell me how it went."

When she gets back to the living room, Charlotte is perched on her dad's lap, her head against his chest. She flops down beside them and leans her head on Noah's shoulder.

"Check it out, the two loves of my life," he says happily. "My amazing wife and my amazing baby girl, who's now my seven-year-old. Where did the time go?" He sighs and turns his head to face Rachel, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. "So, what do you think? Think we can keep doing this for another fifty or sixty years?"

Rachel smiles and returns the kiss, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up against hers. "Mmm, I think that sounds like a pretty good rest of my life. I love you, Mr. Puckerman."

"I love you too, babe. Both of you." He takes one of their hands in each of his, threading them together, a family chain that can never be broken. "And don't ever forget it."


End file.
